


Turbulence

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anger Management, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bucky Barnes Feels, Depression, Domestic Violence, Eventual Smut, Flashbacks, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Makeup Sex, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Issues, Trust Issues, its a total shitstorm basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:19:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5257046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky shuts Steve out to protect him. It tears Steve apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sorry

“Usual?” The bartender gave Bucky a knowing look, hand already half outstretched towards the bottle of Hennessey on the counter.

It was time to start drinking somewhere else.

“Yeah, usual,” Bucky kept his eyes low, fixated on his gloved hands, clasped in front of him on the grubby surface of the wooden bar.

“You know, maybe you wouldn’t be drinking alone if you smiled more,” The bartender pushed the generous glass of amber-coloured liquid towards him with a thick scrape.

He guessed she was older than him, forties maybe. She had a face that had seen a lot, good and bad and it was traced with lines from smiles. There was a red bandana wrapped practically around her forehead keeping tresses of mousy blonde hair out of her way and she smelled like talcum powder and half a pack of Lucky Strikes. Bucky had never asked her name, she had never asked his.

“Maybe I like drinking alone,” Bucky cleared his throat through a burning gulp of whiskey, shrugging nonchalantly at his own bitter and pathetic loneliness.

The bartender smiled warmly, almost maternal. It made Bucky uncomfortable, but warmed him up all the same. Maybe it was the whiskey; he didn’t care.

“Thanks…” Bucky slid four crumpled ones across the bar with his flesh hand to mask the feeling of metal knuckles through the gloves.

“Charlene,” The bartender pushed the ones back towards Bucky, “My name’s Charlene, and that was on the house.”

 

Bucky nodded a meek thanks before leaving the bar to feel the ice of the November frost that had been circling Washington like a plague hit his cheeks with a sting. He huffed out a breath, watching as the whiskey-scented heat clouded in front of him. He checked his watch. 1 Am.

Bucky sighed running his hands over his face and pushing his hair behind his ears roughly, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up and sticking his hands in his jeans pockets. He had hours left of night to deal with before the morning came. Somehow, he felt like he had achieved something if he endured the night alone. Days were easy; people-watch, work out, and maybe actually eat something. Nights were torture. The part of his brain that kept him calm was gnawed with fatigue and the dark and shadows did not help.

Bucky carried on down the road he was walking down, feeling the gentle haze of slight drunkenness creep through his head, and step by step, numbing the little triggers and worries that were lodged there.

For once, he knew where he was going. He was going to make things right.

He had left Steve weeks ago, flashback-fuelled rage and full on physical fight had made it the only option. They had shouted for what seemed like years before Bucky had let the tension of the whole situation push him out of the door. His phone was a warzone full of missed calls and increasingly desperate voicemails from the Captain. Bucky had decided to keep his distance. Steve deserved something much better than this, than him. He had hurt him enough.

But now, weeks later the rage had subsided, even if the flashbacks were just as strong and the longing for the comfort and security that somehow only Steve could offer him was uncontrollable. Tearing himself away was starting to look more and more like tearing himself apart.

Bucky stopped outside of the familiar dark green door to Steve’s apartment. His fingers hovered over the doorbell before pressing, short and sharp. The wait seemed biblical.

Steve opened the door, a look of relief falling across his face when he saw Bucky in the threshold.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky mumbled, “I’m sorry, Steve.”

Steve tugged Bucky’s arm, pulling him house.

“You _bastard_ ,” Steve hissed with his eyes closed and his fingertips pressing the bridge of his nose. Bucky nodded.

“You fucking asshole, Barnes,” Steve shoved Bucky sharply, causing the soldier to stumble back a little.

It did not last. The Captain pulled Bucky forwards just as sharply as he had pushed him, hugging him almost aggressively hard. Bucky grunted in surprise as Steve pushed him again, against the wall this time before crushing their lips together messily, hands cupping either side of his face.

“I have been so worried,” Steve growled against Bucky’s mouth, barely pausing the kiss to talk.

Bucky mouthed another apology against Steve’s neck, letting the heat and passion leach through him to replace some of the ice of the last few weeks.

“Just don’t do that to me again,” Steve sighed, hands resting still against Bucky’s hips, “Promise me.”

Bucky nodded, running his fingers through the taller man’s hair and swaying gently, ignoring the hot and stinging tears running down his own cheeks.

“I was hurting Steve, I didn’t know what else to do.”

 


	2. Easier

Bucky sighed shakily into the pillow he was clutching, face buried against the cotton and lying on his front. Steve’s eyelashes grazed his back, making him shiver and arch away, pushing his hips forward into the mattress. Steve kissed a line down Bucky’s back then straight back up to the nape of his neck.

“Too close?” Steve asked, retracted his affection when he say Bucky’s shoulders tense sharply, like anxiety had pulled a drawstring on them.

Bucky struggled with this. Sexuality, the concept of having urges and needs. The urge was there (there was not denying that), but it was alien to him, uncontrollable in a way that made him feel like his grip that he valued so much was slipping. Steve was good about it, never pressuring him or going too far. It did not stop Bucky feeling awful every time he built Steve up and dropped him again when the contact and pleasure got too much.

They had not gone all the way yet. Bucky had never actually gone all the way, with anyone. He promised himself that he would, when the gut wrenching guilt and regret that followed became less painful.

“Keep going,” Bucky urged, taking a long steadying breath as Steve’s hands ghosted up Bucky’s sides and gripped his waist.

The Captain turned him over, leaning forward and taking his lips to Bucky’s neck and holding him so their bodies held flush to each other. Bucky gripped Steve’s shoulders, listening to the blonde’s breathing speed up and deepen as the passion intensified.

Steve hitched Bucky’s legs up and around his waist, gripping the backs of his thighs and grinding his hips forwards. Bucky gasped, tightening his hands on Steve’s shoulders. It was sudden, the feeling of lost control. The rush of arousal hit him like a train, morphing into panic like a line of coke.

“Steve…” Bucky warned weakly, swallowing the tension thickly.

Steve slowed the movements of his hips against Bucky, pressing his lips into a soft, open-mouthed kiss.

“Try and let yourself go,” Steve whispered hoarsely.

Bucky obeyed, consciously loosening his muscles. He could feel the heat in the Captain’s voice. It went straight to his stomach, coiling tightly and making his heart race.

Steve’s hands were on the move again, down Bucky’s stomach to roughly remove the trunks he was wearing. Crippling humiliation stuck in his throat at his revealed and graphic arousal.

_You don’t deserve to feel this_

Bucky took a shaky breath as Steve lowered his mouth around his shaft, bobbing his head rhythmically, every so often breaking the firm suction with a wet pop. Bucky’s thighs trembled in their place around Steve’s middle. Heat crept up his skin, leaving a cruel and betraying flush of pink in its place.

_Stay in control_

Bucky gripped the back of Steve’s head, limiting how hard the Captain could take him and hindering the pleasure. Steve gave a quick glance up before removing Bucky’s hands from the back of his head and placing them at his sides again.

_You’re vulnerable like this_

Bucky’s heart went into overdrive. He could not sense whether the unnamed, terrifying thing he could feel creeping up on him was and orgasm or a panic attack, but it was terrifying regardless. He opened his mouth to protest but his words came as a moan that made his stomach drop with more embarrassment.

_You deserve to be humiliated_

Bucky closed his eyes as the wave of pleasure rippled through him, aching his muscles and tunnelling his vision. Steve’s mouth stayed where it was for a few moments before he came back towards Bucky and pressed their lips together hard. Tears ran backwards down the soldier’s cheeks, pooling uncomfortably in his ears. The guilt hit.

“I love you Bucky,” Steve’s voice was soft and distant against Bucky’s chest, fractured by repeated kisses across the blushing skin.

“Bucky?”

Steve’s face fell. He pulled Bucky towards him, onto his chest where he could see the top of the soldiers head and the brunet wasn’t forced to make eye contact.

“It will get easier, Bucky,” Steve whispered, squeezing his shoulders gently, “I promise.”

 

Bucky usually believed Steve. Tonight was different.

 


End file.
